


Dirty Magazines

by mistyzeo



Series: Birthday Ficlets 2014 [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Docking, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo





	Dirty Magazines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bilbos_pantaloons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilbos_pantaloons/gifts).



Sherlock Holmes was straddling me on the settee, half an hour into a leisurely though increasingly heated exchange of kisses, when he gradually stilled and pulled back, resting on his elbows and looking down into my face. I licked my tingling lips and gazed up at him, swamped with affection and arousal, and certain that he was about to make some observation or proclamation that would alter the course of our little interlude.

"John," said he, more hesitant than I had seen him in a while, "I wonder if we might… try something."

"Anything you like," I said, rubbing my hands up and down his lean sides, "provided it is within the bounds of decency and legality."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You know, it's in very poor taste to make a joke like that at this particular juncture." We were both achingly hard, his erection nestled against mine through the layers of our clothes, and we had been enjoying the friction between ourselves for a while now.

"Sorry," I said, not very sorry. "But you know I'm up for just about anything you might suggest."

He cleared his throat. "Well, I read in a magazine—" of dubious repute, I had no doubt— "that two men in a situation such as ours might… that is with the application of…"

"Holmes," I interrupted, hating to watch him stutter and falter, so shy was he of the finer points of intimate conversation, "perhaps you ought to just show me."

"Yes, quite right," Holmes said, and sat up. He lifted himself off me to unfasten his trousers, so I followed suit and undid my own. When he settled down again, it was with his bare prick against mine, rubbing skin on skin. I took the opportunity to close my hand around us both, and Holmes's eyelashes fluttered as his control faltered. For a minute or two we moved together like that, slicking my fist with our mutual excitement, Holmes making little half-stifled noises of pleasure in his throat.

"Wait," he said, leaning over me and covering my hand with his. "That's… very nice, but not…"

"Go on then," said I, and let him have the field once more. He propped himself up on one hand on the arm of the settee by my head, and lifted his hips, one knee wedged into the cushion of the settee and the other foot planted on the floor.

"Stretch out your legs."

I obeyed. Now our cocks barely brushed.

"Now, just, hold yourself still."

Again, I complied, taking hold of my prick and pointing it upwards towards him. He was breathing rapidly, and his hand by my ear shifted on the upholstery. He adjusted his stance again until the tip of his prick just touched mine, and we both gasped at the slippery, electric contact.

"Just—" said Holmes, but didn't elaborate, caught up in the moment. He began to stroke himself, working the tip of his cock and manipulating his foreskin so that it swallowed up his ruddy head and brushed against mine. Slowly, as he tugged and rolled and pressed with his nimble fingers, it stretched and flexed to envelop us both, slick and hot like a curious mouth, and yet so unlike anything I had ever felt.

"Oh, my dear fellow," I panted, grasping Holmes's hip with my free hand, "I think you need to show me this magazine."


End file.
